


Reading between the lines

by consultingcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: deancasbigbang, Dcbb16, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hate to Love, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Jo Harvelle/Anna Milton, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8523835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingcas/pseuds/consultingcas
Summary: Dean hates corporate drones in suits. He hates people who think they can tell him how to fix a car, when they probably have no idea how the hell to do it themselves. Most of all, he hates having to sell up the garage to Angelus Motors, not to mention dealing with that asshole Castiel Novak who they’ve sent along to balance the books.Good thing he’s got his online friend Emmanuel to complain to about it all.Aka the one where Dean and Castiel have no idea that the guy they’ve become best friends with online is the same jerk who’s been making their lives a misery at work.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm a sucker for hate to love stories. This story was born when I fell in love with the musical "She Loves Me" and started thinking, "How cool would it be to make an adapted destiel version of this?". Then I started watching "Parks and Rec" and socially awkward, initially a jerk accountant Ben provided me with the exact plot bunny for how to pull it off.
> 
> This fic has been an absolute nightmare to write for various reasons and I wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for a bunch of fabulous people:  
> \- My incredible artist thecobaltbluetie for producing the most beautiful art and tolerating my squeeing down the tumblr askbox at her.  
> \- Letzi and Lisa for being the most fabulous betas and knocking my initial atrocious draft into something vaguely readable  
> \- Angelofthemoor as always for her amazing friendship and cheerleading.  
> \- The entire DCBB Crying group, for dealing with my frequent "I can't do this" moments and general support. You're all awesome.
> 
> Warnings: Cas is trying to reconcile the beliefs he's been raised to trust in with his own personal thoughts and feelings, so for a good proportion of the fic, he's struggling with internalised homophobia and he expresses some homophobic views. Conversion therapy and a minor character's ultimate suicide from going through it are mentioned briefly as well.

Dean had known there was something wrong, right from the beginning. It had been years since Bobby had summoned Dean into his office. He didn’t even bother speaking, just shoved a document across the table. Dean flicked through it. It looked like a legal agreement, the kind of stuff Sam normally gave a damn about. Still, it doesn’t take long for him to get the gist.

Dean dropped the document on the desk in disgust, face red with fury. “What the hell is this?”

“You know damn well what it is, Dean.” Bobby sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m selling up the garage.”

“Like hell you are. Ain’t just your decision, Bobby.” Dean glared at him. “This place is  _ our’ _ s. You and Dad built it up from the freaking ground, and I still have his share in the business. How the hell could you do this? ‘Specially without talking to me first.”

He started to stalk off, but Bobby grabs him by the shoulder in a vice-like grip.

“Wait just a second.” Bobby snapped back at him. “You want to look at the books, see if you can do better?” Dean deliberately doesn’t meet his eye. Book-keeping wasn’t his strong suit and they both knew it. “We’re gonna go bankrupt in a month if we don’t do something fast, Dean.”

Dean opened his mouth to disagree. He wanted to argue that something, anything, was better than this, but Bobby wouldn’t let him.

“You know it’s true! You’ve seen how bad business is. You think I want to sell up to a bunch of corporate assholes like Angelus Motors who don’t know the first thing about fixing cars? I don’t!” He shook his head. “But y’all still have jobs because of it and they’re letting us keep running the place. I gotta tell you, Dean, it doesn’t sound like too bad of a deal to me.”

“We wouldn’t have had to sell up if they weren’t undercutting us with their cheap prices.” Dean muttered mutinously. “If there was any freaking justice….”

“Well, life ain’t fair. Get used to it.” Bobby snapped. All the same, he couldn’t help but soften a little when he saw Dean flinch at his harsh tone. This wasn’t easy on either of them. Dean had all but grown up at the garage. It was where he had learned to fix up engines, where he had rebuilt his Impala, his Baby, from the ground up. This place was as good as home to him and Bobby was now telling him that it wasn’t their’s anymore.

“Look, I ain’t asking you to like it.” Bobby said gruffly. “Just keep a civil tongue in your head when the guy from Angelus Motors stops by. That was one of the conditions, before I sign the papers. He’s gonna check we’re doing things the way they like it, then they’ll leave us alone. Nothing else will change.” Bobby needed to believe that just as much as Dean did.

Dean sighed. “Fine.” He knew it was a losing battle, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Like some asshole who spends all their time behind a desk is gonna to know the first damn thing about cars.”

Bobby shrugged. “He didn’t seem too bad on the phone. Guess we’ll have to wait and see. He’s got one hell of a weird name though. Castiel.”

……………………

Like everything else she did in life, Naomi Novak managed Angelus Motors with the precision of an army general. Everything was run exactly so, not a cog in the giant company wheel out of place. That extended to her children, cultivated for their designated roles from the moment they could walk and talk. Michael was the perfect second-in-command, ready to follow her instructions at a moment’s notice. Lucifer should have been in charge of negotiating with new clients, with his knack for persuasion. After one too many arguments with Naomi and a fight with Michael at the annual company gala though, he was kicked out, forced to walk away from the family cash cow. Gabriel’s exuberant flair for the dramatic was channeled into Marketing. Then to her youngest, sweet and solemn Castiel, Naomi bequeathed the Accounting division.

To Castiel, numbers were infinitely preferable to people. Numbers didn’t talk back, or say something different to what they meant. Numbers were simple and concrete. That was why he hadn’t objected, when Naomi pushed him towards an Accounting and Business major before offering him the job at Angelus Motors. He could bury his head in spreadsheets all day, then return home to his tiny apartment and his cat. Uncomplicated. Simple. Just the way he liked it.

All except for one thing. He had grown to hate the occasional investigations that would roll around, forcing him out from his comfortable corner office to survey some garage in the Midwest that the company was considering acquiring and to check that it would reap the necessary profits. The first few times he had been shipped off, it had been an unmitigated disaster. Castiel’s blunt style was not best suited to breaking the bad news about just how badly someone’s business was failing. After a few too many death threats and one particularly zealous garage owner trying to punch Castiel in the face, it was determined that a double-act might work better. So one of the accounting department was usually forced to go along with him, generally trailing about with an expression of being utterly done with the whole thing.

This time, it was Anna who would be accompanying him on his trip to Lawrence, Kansas. That was a sign it was important: as Naomi’s second-in-command, she rarely came out on work visits. Singer and Winchester wasn’t up to much, going by the reports and how much money they had been hemorrhaging, unable to compete with the corporate chains like Angelus. All the same, if things went to plan, it would give them a foothold right at the centre of Lawrence and some of the staff should at least be redeemable. Castiel wasn’t complaining, though. He liked Anna. She had a habit of refusing to tolerate his shit that he found refreshing. Although her fondness for playing heavy rap music whenever he let her loose at the wheel of his prized Lincoln Continental was less than ideal. Today, Sir Mixalot was her preferred soundtrack, turned up at full blast as they drove through yet another sleepy Midwestern town and attracted disapproving looks.

Castiel sighed. “I don’t understand why you like this music.”

“You’re the one who drives a pimp-mobile.” Anna smiled back at him, angelically innocent.

“Don’t call my car that.”

“I only do it ‘cause it annoys you.” She said sweetly. “Besides, I’m just trying to get you to loosen up. You need to have more fun, Cas.”

“Fun is over-rated.” Castiel muttered, going back to tapping away at his phone.

“Who’re you texting anyway?” Anna leaned over, trying to look at the screen.

He snatched the phone away, “Eyes on the road, Anna. Besides, it’s none of your business.”

“Oh.” A shit-eating grin spread across her face. “Is it a girl?”

“No!”

“A guy?”

Castiel scowled over at her. “I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

Anna flinched at his unexpectly harsh tone, falling silent. Castiel almost felt guilty. He was all too aware of how Anna felt about his family’s solidly conservative Christian views. “I mean,” He tried again. “I’m not interested in him. We’re just good friends.”

He knew he was forgiven, for the time being at least, when she smiled faintly back at him. “Who is he? No offense, but I think I know all your friends back home.”

“That’s true. Aside from work, I don’t get out much.” He confessed. Castiel considered for a few moments, brow furrowed as he thought of the best way to explain. “Honestly, we’ve never actually met.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, surprised. “How do you know him then?”

Castiel’s cheeks turned red with embarrassment. “We met on a forum about a year ago. Impala67 – that’s what I call him, I don’t know his real name – we got arguing about science fiction. As if anyone in their right mind could think  _ Star Wars _ was better than  _ Star Trek _ . I suppose something just clicked. We’ve been talking ever since.”

“And you’ve never thought of meeting up?”

“It’s been discussed a few times, but nothing’s ever come of it.” Much to Castiel’s relief. He can’t help but worry that he wouldn’t live up to whatever expectations Impala67 has of him.

He glanced back down at his phone, frowning when he saw the latest reply from his friend.

“He’s having a bad day.” He sighed. “He works in their family’s business and they’ve just been told they have to sell up. I know how much he cares about it, so this can’t be easy on him.”

“He needs you there, with your amazing accounting skills.” Anna teased, letting Castiel imagine for a few blissful moments how he could save his friend from the whole awful situation.

“Yes, well, maybe after this trip. I can talk to him.”

……………..

_ Emmanuel: We’ve just settled in to our motel now. I will never understand what’s meant to be honorable about a miniature bar in a motel room. _

_ Impala67: Snob :P _

_ Emmanuel: Like you’re any better. You’ve told me about some of the dives you’ve stayed in when road-tripping with your brother. _

_ Impala67: Yeah, I guess. Still not over that fucking creepy motel with all the clown dolls. I bet that’s why Sammy’s still terrified of them too. _

_ Emmanuel: Are you feeling any better, btw? _

_ Impala67: Can we not talk about that? _

_ Emmanuel: Sorry. I was just worried about you. _

_ Impala67: Yeah? Don’t be. I’m gonna be fine. _

_ Emmanuel: I wish there was something more I could do. _

_ Impala67: You’re taking my mind off it all, man. That’s more than enough. _

……………..

Usually, Dean would have been happy. A guy had just brought in a battered old ’65 Mustang for him to work on, mint condition, exactly the kind of classic car he had always dreamed of working with. Normally he would shove the radio on as loud as it could go and rock out to Led Zep, then go to the Roadhouse to kick back with a beer with the other guys. Today, though, things were different. Him and Bobby hadn’t been able to keep the news from the guys, and it had started to take its toll. Garth had been unusually quiet all day. Jo was just sat in a corner tinkering with a gear box, a scowl on her face. They didn’t even have the radio on, the garage unnaturally silent.

He ran a tender hand over the Mustang, her bonnet crumpled in on itself. It would be a lot of work to restore her to her former glory, but Dean had done it before. He could work his magic on her too, at least while he still could. No way would Angelus Motors have the same patience with him tinkering around with old cars like Bobby did.

He was so engrossed in his work that it was a while before he spotted the guy loitering in the doorway, looking lost. Dark messy hair; piercing blue eyes; his suit and trenchcoat looking out of place in the grime of the garage. Damn, he was hot. He’d definitely tap that, given the chance. Luckily for him, there was no one else around to help the guy out: Garth and Jo were on lunch break and Bobby was too busy going over paperwork for whatever bozos Angelus decided to send. Dean knew he didn’t look so bad either: his overalls really showed off his ass, and with his most charming smile, he looked like someone straight out of an  _ America’s Hottest Mechanics _ calendar.

Dean wiped his hands on a rag as he walked over, not quite managing to get rid of all the grease and oil stains. “Looking for someone?”

The guy tilted his head, examining Dean so intensely he felt like a bug on a microscope. “Actually,” He said coldly, his gravelly voice pure sex. “I was looking for Mr. Singer.”

Dean tried to ignore how his pants suddenly felt slightly too tight. “Oh, okay.” He shot the guy a trademark Dean Winchester grin, the one that always managed to charm the pants off of whoever Dean happened to be flirting with. “Yeah, Bobby’s out back in the office. ‘Course, I can always give you a hand.”

The guy ignored Dean’s obvious posing, his suggestive tone, but it didn’t prevent him from turning a deep shade of pink at the way Dean wasn’t so subtly checking him out. Far more curtly than before, he frowned and muttered, “That won’t be necessary. Mr Singer is expecting me.” He glanced down at Dean’s overalls, obviously unimpressed. “I’m Castiel Novak, from Angelus Motors. Perhaps he didn’t tell you I was coming.”

_ Shit _ . Of all the people Dean had to choose to flirt with, he had to go for the douchebag who was going to determine the fate of their garage. His smile faded to be replaced by a grimace. “Oh, um, yeah. Didn’t expect you so soon and you weren’t what I was expecting.”  _ Dammit, Dean, he’s still going to think you’re coming onto him _ . He hadn’t even introduced himself yet.  “ I’m Dean Winchester.” He held out a hand to shake. Novak didn’t take it.

“Yes, Mr Singer mentioned you on the phone.” Novak’s tone left no doubt that Dean had not lived up to whatever expectations he had. Dean’s hand hovered for a few seconds, before he lowered it, gritting his teeth.

“Can you show me the way to his office, please?” It was more of a command than a request.

“Kinda busy here, buddy. Got things to do. Keep going straight ahead, you can’t miss it.” Dean explained, suddenly eager to get out of Novak’s company. The way the guy wouldn’t stop staring was starting to freak him out. He deliberately turned his back on the guy, going back to working on the Mustang.

Novak stalked off without even so much as a thank you.

_ Well, this was going to go just swell. _

……………..

It wasn’t long before Dean realized just how bad things had got. Bobby summoned him into the garage office at the end of the day, scowling bitterly. The usually untidy office was free of its usual stacks of papers strewn everywhere. Instead, a stack of finance reports were piled up neatly on the desk, everything else put away in their proper places. Novak had already started to mess with things then, damn him.

No sooner had Dean closed the office door when Bobby rounded on him.“What the hell did you say to him?!”

Dean had only seen Bobby this angry three times in his life. The first time, after he found out how John had reacted to the news that Dean was bisexual. The second time, when the doctors told him Karen’s cancer was too far along to cure. The third time, when he heard that John was drinking the night he crashed the Impala, putting Dean in intensive care and killing himself in the process.

Whatever happened with Novak had to have been bad, then.

“Don’t ask me.” Dean settled for a nonchalant shrug. “Guy seems like an asshole.”

“Yeah? Well he ain’t impressed with you either, you idjit.” Bobby muttered. That spelt trouble. Bobby only went quiet when he was really pissed. “He told me some crap about you being unprofessional, asked if I was sure you were up to being partners in the garage with me.”

That was it settled then. Dean hated Castiel’s guts. “Up to being partners? Are you friggin’ kiddin’ me? What an asshole,” he scoffed. “And what the hell is this up to crap!  I  _ am  _ a partner! I helped make this place! It’s my blood, and my sweat on these floors, not theirs! What’s he ever done that’s so special anyways? He just got lucky to be born into some super-rich family where Mommy can just give him a job and he doesn’t have to work for a damn thing.”

“Hey, calm down. No need to go off like you got ditched at prom.” Bobby held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, trying to cut off Dean’s tirade. He sighed, his voice softening a little as he continued, “I ain’t saying he’s right. I just want to know what happened.”

Dean held his gaze for a few moments before his eyes flicked down to the ground, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “I might’ve flirted with him.”

Bobby swore under his breath. “’Course you did. Idjit.”

“Look, he was hot. ‘Least until I knew who he was.” Dean shrugged sheepishly. “‘Sides, I could’ve sworn he was checking me out when he first came into the garage. I didn’t start anything. He was the one who started acting like an asshole.”

“What part of ‘we can’t afford to screw this up’ don’t you understand?” Bobby scowled back at him.

“Can’t get more charming than me trying to get in his pants, Bobby.” Dean quipped back at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just like you to go flirt with the guy from the massively conservative family.” Bobby said mockingly. “No way that’s gonna backfire. Idjit.”

“Oh. Crap.” Dean blanched.

Now he thought about it, he did remember seeing an article or something boasting about Angelus Motors’ Christian family values. Would’ve been useful if he had remembered that a few hours earlier. “Not like he was wearing a nametag or anything,” Dean said defensively.

Bobby sighed in exasperation as he handed over a sheaf of papers, all covered in neat precise handwriting. Novak’s handiwork, presumably. “These are his initial plans, and he ain’t even started yet. His colleague is coming in tomorrow and she reports to the CEO herself. They’re gonna go through all our files this week, see what needs to go. If he gets his way, he’s gonna rip out everything that makes this place ours. You’re gonna be pissed. He’s talking staff cuts, renovating the building, making it look more like one of their corporate joints, stopping the custom work.”

Dean opened his mouth, about to go off on another rant, but the defeated expression on Bobby’s face stopped him. He was just as upset about this as Dean was, after all. No point taking it out on him.

“I ain’t asking for much, just try not to piss him off again. We can’t afford it.” Bobby said softly. He had all but given up hope of saving the garage, it seemed. With one final sad smile, he left the room, leaving Dean alone with Novak’s papers.

He started to read, and from the first line he could feel the bile rise in his throat. Bobby said he'd be pissed.  He was.  No escaping that.  Obviously, they had little choice, but that didn’t make it any less painful, watching someone tear apart the garage he had worked so hard to build.  Dean sighed, making a move to leave the room as well, intending to head over to the Roadhouse. He would need a beer, maybe several to get through this.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel didn’t know what to make of his newest assignment. Robert Singer seemed like a sound businessman, merely plagued by a string of bad luck. He hadn’t seemed overly receptive to Castiel’s ideas, but there was time for that. Winchester, though…He was harder to read. It wasn’t anything Castiel hadn’t seen before: mechanics judging him by his suit and tie, assuming that because he didn’t know anything about cars, he was useless. The flirting was new though. Castiel hadn’t known how to react to that. Obviously he hadn’t handled it well enough, going by the way Winchester took an instant dislike to him. There was nothing he could do about that now, though. The only thing to do was to try and hold his ground and work together with them as best as he could. Sadly, getting Dean on his side seemed important if he wanted to make things work smoothly with  _ Singer & Winchester _ . From Castiel’s talks with Mr. Singer, he seemed to rely heavily on Dean as an equal partner, even if Singer seemed to be the one to handle the paperwork.

At least today, he would have Anna’s support. Bobby had suggested that the two of them went on a tour around the garage with Winchester, learning some of the finer points of the business. Going by the harsh set of Dean’s shoulders and his grimace when he saw Castiel approaching, he wasn’t happy about the arrangement. He didn’t even bother saying hello. He just went back to working on some broken down wreck of a car.

Of course, because Castiel was incapable of holding his tongue, he just had to say, “Is that vehicle worth the trouble?” Obviously the wrong thing to say, going by Dean’s glare in his direction. But it didn’t prevent Castiel from going on, “It doesn’t look capable of running any time soon. Surely it can scarcely be worth the cost of manpower.”

If looks could kill, Castiel would have exploded into little pieces by now.

Dean scoffed. “Is that your engineering degree talking or are you just this charming all the time? Oh wait. I forgot. You don’t know the first thing about cars.” He straightened up, gently caressing the car. “This baby is a classic. Mustangs? Like her, done up properly? You’re talking tens of thousands of dollars.” Castiel couldn’t look away, the passionate rage on Dean’s face too captivated. "Not like the money’s that important. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore, a perfect marriage of chrome and steel. When I’m finished with her, she’ll run just as sweetly as the day she rolled off the production line and outlast any of the crap that passes for quality these days. This car is a work of art. Guess you wouldn’t understand that,  _ Cas _ .”  The nickname was spat out. “All you care about is how many dollars she’s worth.”

Castiel moved in closer to him, the two of them barely inches apart. He had to let Winchester know that he was a force to be reckoned with. “I know enough to manage the books, which is more than sufficient.” He said snidely, “After all, good expertise with cars isn’t enough to save failing businesses like this one.”

“Wasn’t failing ‘til you Angelus assholes started setting up around town.” Dean muttered just loud enough for Castiel to hear.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Castiel had almost forgotten Anna was there until he heard a cough and her voice saying pointedly, “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Castiel?”

“Oh. Yes. Apologies.” Blushing a deep shade of red, he stepped aside.

Anna waved a hand in greeting. “Hey, I’m Anna. I work for Angelus too. Cas is here to do the figures, I’m looking at ways we can try and incorporate the garage into the franchise that’ll still keep you happy. So basically, I’m the fun one.” She grinned over at him. “Beautiful car, by the way. I love classic cars.”

Dean’s mood immediately switched. He smiled warmly back at her, “Nice to meet you. I’m Dean. Good to know someone on your team has some sense.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. He felt angry somehow, frustrated that Anna had won Winchester over so quickly when he hadn’t. “Mr Singer said you were going to show me around.” He said, looking pointedly over at Dean and folding his arms.

“Fine.” Dean reluctantly ditched his tools, straightening up and leading the two of them around.

Whatever else Castiel might think of him, it was clear Dean knew his stuff. He knew every inch of the workspace like the back of his hand, and and, besides his little speech about the Mustang, the passion he bore for his job was clear as he was talked about new repair innovations and technology they used that far outstripped their competitors. Anna smoothed over any awkward moments between Dean and Castiel. Her and Dean were soon fast friends, laughing and joking. Castiel’s scowl got ever more pronounced as he watched them. Anna was supposed to take his side, dammit, not suck up to the asshole mechanic.

They were introduced to the staff too. Jo Harvelle, who Dean had recruited when he heard how she had fixed up her mom’s broken down rust-bucket. Garth, one of Bobby’s protégées who you couldn’t help but like instantly, his wide smile soothing even the most bad-tempered of customers. Dean’s brother Sam, who alternated between helping Bobby out in the office and working on the cars. The pride in Dean’s voice was obvious when he talked about his kid brother. For a moment, Castiel almost forgot to dislike him. Then it all came crashing down.

It was just a casual comment.

Castiel hadn’t meant anything bad by it. He had merely been curious. A smart kid like Sam could surely have done better than working as a grease-monkey in some garage. It was clear that his passion really lay elsewhere, based on how enthusiastically he talked about the improvements he brought to the company’s filing system.

So Castiel couldn’t help but ask, “Did you never consider going to college? It’s obvious you have a talent, the company records are very well kept.”

Sam stiffened, slumping over a little and looking smaller and more vulnerable.  Somehow, Castiel had said something wrong.

Before he could do anything to smooth over his blunder, Dean went into attack dog mode, “Getting through college isn’t that big a deal. Nothing you can’t learn here.”

“I merely thought…” Castiel tried, startled by the vehemence in Dean’s tone. “It helps your employment chances…”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean snapped. “For stuck-up assholes who got Daddy to pay their way through college, then they think they’re the ones with the biggest dick because of it.” He looked pointedly in Castiel’s direction as he said it, “Sammy can do without, thanks.”

“I can assure you, I’ve never acted like I’m better than someone because I had a college education.” Castiel said indignantly. “If you hadn’t judged me the moment I walked in here, you would know that.”

“Guys, really? Calm it down.” Anna tried.

Dean didn’t take heed, glaring at Castiel as he snapped, “ _ I _ judged you?! You were a dick. Can’t blame me if I was an asshole back. I don’t have time for people who ain’t got a clue coming in here, but still think they can tell me how to do my damn job.”

“Whoa, Dean, calm down! It’s okay,” Sam stepped in before Castiel could give an equally angry retort. The brothers exchanged a look, a whole silent conversation seemingly happening in front of Castiel’s eyes before Dean sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I should go look at the paperwork again.” Castiel muttered, wanting to break the awkward silence somehow.

Dean grunted an acknowledgement in his direction. Sam waved farewell, shooting Castiel and Anna an apologetic smile.

When they had disappeared, Anna turned to Castiel, “You weren’t lying about Winchester and you not getting along.”

“He’s such an assbutt.” Castiel muttered. “I hate working with him.”

“Maybe you haven’t given him enough of a chance. From what you told me, it sounds like he’s just upset about what’s going to happen to the garage. Besides, you did kinda turn him down.” Anna looked thoughtful. “I like him. He’s funny. Super-hot too.”

There was that heat again in Castiel’s stomach. “I suppose he is relatively handsome. If you like that sort of thing.”

“I’ll make a good wingman out of you yet.” Anna ruffled his hair playfully, earning a scowl from Castiel. “I think half the reason he didn’t yell at me is ‘cause you were there being dark and broody all over the place.”

 

“You’re going to ask him out then?” Castiel felt sick. Yeah, Anna was a flirt and she had dated people in the past while they were on assignment. All the same, though. This was Dean. Boorish, obnoxious Dean. She could do so much better.

She looked out the office windows, watching where Dean was gathered with the other mechanics, Jo laughing at some joke Dean had just told. “Nah, I don’t think so. Not sure he’s my type.”

Castiel tried to ignore how relieved he felt on hearing that.

……………..

When Anna had left him alone and he was ensconced in going through the paperwork, Castiel couldn’t help replaying the incidents of the day, wondering where things had gone wrong. Dean did seem eager to find fault in him, no matter what he did, but Sam’s reaction had been strange. Going by Dean’s chip on his shoulder about college, perhaps their family hadn’t had the money to send either of them. Castiel resolved to see what he could do about that.

As usual, when things weren’t going great at work, he reached for his phone. That was one of the benefit of having a lot of online friendships: even when you travelled away from home as much as Castiel did, you were never short of people to talk to or turn to in a crisis.  His family were less approving. His mother had mentioned more than once how he should go and find some “real” friends.

Castiel just ignored them. The forums meant too much to him to give a damn what they thought. There were a few different ones he mostly frequented. There was the beekeepers collective. Another site devoted to analyzing TV shows down to the minutest detail, although he hadn’t been on that one so much since his intricate meta of Roadrunner being a commentary on God and mankind had kicked off a fairly intense bout of wank. Then there were the LARPers. As a science fiction and fantasy fan, it wasn’t much of a surprise that Castiel took like a duck to water to LARPing while at college. He had several suits of armour at home and his elven cleric Emmanuel had become almost legendary in the Topeka LARPing scene. It was always fun hearing everyone’s stories from their adventures, not to mention that LARPers were the friendliest people around. Especially one in particular.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was skiving off at work: there was already a notification awaiting him when he logged into the app.

_ Impala67: Man, I’m having the worst day at work. There’s a new guy here and he’s an asshole. _

“I know the feeling,” Castiel thought wryly. He considered carefully before typing back. He didn’t like overstepping his boundaries. The two of them rarely ever shared personal information, and he didn’t want to be the first to take that step. All the same, Impala67 seemed to need to blow off some steam and rant a little.

_ Emmanuel: Tell me about it. _

It was a few minutes before he got his reply and it was a long one. Obviously whoever this guy was, he had really gotten under Impala67’s skin.

_ Impala67: I’m so fucking pissed. This place is my home, and he’s just tearing it up like it’s nothing. Plus my kid brother was a mess after he left. The guy said some things that brought back a whole ton of shit my brother’s trying to forget. _

Castiel leaned back in his chair, considering how best to respond. Empty platitudes probably wouldn’t help the situation, but all the same, he had never heard Impala67 sound this despondent before. He had to say something.

_ Emmanuel: Talk to him. You can’t let him boss you around like this, not when it’s hurting you and your family. _

_ Impala67: It’s not like he’ll listen to me. The guy’s a jerk. Hell, I bet he’d go ahead anyway, just to screw me over. Wish it was you I was working with, not Douchebag over here. _

_ Emmanuel: Likewise. My current work situation is…difficult. _

_ Impala67: You’re having a rough day too? _

_ Emmanuel: You could say that. I started my new assignment a few days ago and the owners of the business I’m trying to help are not being responsive to my suggestions. My colleague says to just give it time, but I’m worried the damage is irreparable. _

While he waited for Impala67 to respond, Castiel looked out of the office windows, surveying the garage. Dean was over by the Mustang again. He wasn’t working. Instead, he was texting on his phone, leaning against the bonnet to steady himself. Maybe it was because he thought no one was watching him, but he seemed sad, somehow. He wasn’t putting on his usual show of “devil may care” swagger and his shoulders were slumped, his posture defeated. If he hadn’t hated him, Castiel could have almost pitied him.

Finally, the ping of the messenger app cut through his thoughts.

_ Impala67: Damn, I forgot you’d just started a new job. You said you’re trying to change things, right? Someone came in here and tried to mess everything around? I’d throw a bitch fit. Hell, I have. Figure out what’s important about the place, then you’ll know what they don’t mind changing. _

Although Castiel hated to admit it, that was a good point. Anna had said almost exactly the same thing, although less bluntly.

_ Emmanuel: You give excellent advice. _

_ Impala67: Yeah, yeah, I’m awesome, I know. _

_ Emmanuel: Not to mention humble. _

_ Impala67: Shut it, sassmaster. _

……………..

Castiel came back into the garage the next day with renewed energy. He felt he knew where he was going wrong now, and how to fix it. The first thing he did was corner Sam. Of everyone, he seemed the most likely to help, despite the incident the other day: he didn’t know the other mechanics well enough to ask for favors; Bobby was wary around him, especially after he’d unveiled his initial plans; and no way was Castiel asking Dean for anything. No, Sam was the best option, plus he had grown up here. He knew how the garage worked, what made it special.

“Would Mr Singer mind if I borrowed you for an hour or so?”

Sam looked unsure, but shrugged. “Bobby said we should help you out if we could. What do you want me to do?”

“I just want to talk. I realize I have made some…miscalculations in my approach.” Castiel grimaced, remembering the hard set of Bobby’s mouth on that first day. “I know this place is important to all of you and as an outsider, I can hardly view it in the same way. If I’m going to help, I need to understand the business as well as you do.”

Some of the tension bled out of Sam’s shoulders. “Oh,” He sighed, as he led the way towards the garage office, “You know, you really should be talking to Dean. He’s the real mechanic. I just help out.” He held the door open for Castiel before following him inside. “Besides, this place is like another home to him. He all but ran it a few years back for a bit, when Karen, that’s Bobby’s wife, passed.”

Embarassed, Castiel sat down at the desk, starting to sift through the paperwork to cover his awkwardness. “Dean and I…I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Sam huffed a laugh, “Yeah, he told me. You guys don’t get on, huh?”

Castiel shook his head, suddenly intently focused on his papers. “We got off to the wrong start. People like him and me…we don’t mix.”

“You could just talk to him. Sure, Dean’s pissed about the garage, but you seem like you want to help.” Sam suggested as he moved over, pulling up a chair next to Castiel’s.

“He won’t listen.” Castiel sighed, his voice full of defeat. “I’m still the enemy to him. I represent everything that’s trying to tear this place down.” He added bitterly. “Although that doesn’t stop him from getting on with Anna.” While Castiel had the herculean task of examining the garage’s finances, Anna had been spending more time on the garage floor, focusing on what improvements she should recommend to Naomi. Dean was all charm when faced with her and every time, it made Castiel’s blood boil.

Sam looked thoughtful, “Maybe if he saw you outside of work, he would be less hostile. We’re all going to the Roadhouse tonight for a few beers. Kinda a last gasp celebration of the garage before it closes. Why don’t you come along?”

“I’m not sure if I…” Castiel was unconvinced. Dean barely tolerated his presence in the garage. To come to what amounted to a farewell party for it seemed to be overstepping his limits, somewhat.

“C’mon, Cas. Just come for five minutes at least. If you hate it, you can always leave.” Sam pleaded. It was hard to resist his puppy dog eyes in full force.

“Fine.” Castiel sighed, admitting defeat. “I’ll be there.”

“Great.” Sam smiled back at him, all dimples and boyish charm. He reached for a stack of papers, getting down to business since he had accomplished his objective. “What do you want to know?”

They spent several hours that way, talking about every detail of the business. Castiel barely noticed the time, it passed so fast. He couldn’t help but instinctively like Sam. He was methodical and precise, wanting every detail to be perfect, but patient enough to help Castiel understand some of the more practical sides of the business. They only realized it was lunchtime when Dean appeared at the door, his navy overalls covered in motor oil and grease.

“Lunchtime, Sammy. You’re still up for the Roadhouse tonight, right? Ellen was bitching at me that you’ve…” He tailed off, seeing Castiel, the fond smile falling off his face to be replaced with a grimace. “Oh.” He sneered. “You’re here.”

“Since I have been working here for the past few days,” Castiel said, a little more snarkily than he’d intended. “It shouldn’t come as such a surprise to you.”

“Yeah, working on how to screw us over.” Dean muttered, just loud enough for Castiel to hear.

He shouldn’t have to put up with this. Castiel stood up abruptly, grabbing his papers.  He didn’t have to stand for this. “Thank you, Sam. You were very helpful. I will get out of your way.”

“Cas, hey, wait a minute.” Sam stood up, clearly embarrassed. “No need to rush off. Stick around for a bit.”

“Oh, so he’s Cas now.” Dean scowled. “Thought you were on my side, Sam.”

Castiel snorted. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” He said, coolly, shooting a glare at Dean. He barely acknowledged Sam or his shouted 'goodbye' in his eagerness to escape.

There had never been anyone Castiel had loathed as much as Dean Winchester. The man just got under his skin and drove him crazy. Castiel couldn’t wait until he was far away from Lawrence, and Dean. Until then, though, he would have to suck it up and at least tolerate him. Tonight would most definitely be interesting.

……………..

“Becoming buddies with the enemy, Sammy? I thought better of you.” Dean snarked when they sat down at their local diner, ordering some food.

“He’s not the enemy.” Sam answered with a sigh. “Castiel’s an okay guy, when you talk to him. A bit socially awkward and standoffish at times, but he’s alright. I like him.”

“Anyone who tries to destroy the garage is a jerk in my book.” Dean bit into his burger angrily, flecks of meat going flying everywhere. “Did you see the plans he’s got? Bobby nearly had a fit when he saw it. He wants to sack half the staff, just turn us into one of those quick fix, dime a dozen places. One of their Angelus Motors clones.”

“Dean. That’s why he was talking to me.” Sam sighed again, shooting Dean one of his bitch faces. “He realized he had screwed up and he wants to fix it.”

“Or just trying to get you on his side so he can screw us over even more.” Dean muttered.

Sam let his fork fall to the side of his plate, looking curiously over at his brother. “Why do you hate him so much? Is it just ‘cause of the garage? Or is there something you’re not telling me?”

There was plenty Dean wasn’t telling him. Castiel refusing to shake his hand. Castiel brushing off his feeble attempts at flirting like Dean wasn’t even worth noticing. Castiel bugging Sam about going to college, when he had no damn idea what Sam had been through at Stanford. Novak had probably always had it easy. He didn’t know what it was like to do honest hard work every day. He didn’t have a damn clue. But Dean didn’t want to get into that, so he stayed silent, continuing to chow down on his burger.

Sam broke the awkward silence by saying gently, “I think you would like Cas too, if you gave him a chance.”

“Yeah? How did you work that one out?”

“He likes a lot of the same stuff as you. We got talking about those nerdy fan-conventions you like and he goes to the Trekkie ones all the time, back in Topeka. Plus, he LARPs.”

Dean tried to control his face, not wanting to show his surprise. “Thought he was too stuck up to like things like that.”

Sam saw it anyway. He smirked back at Dean, “Changed your mind about him now?”

“Doesn’t stop him from being a douchebag. Plenty of fans are jerks.” Dean shot back. “If he starts being nice to me, fine. I’ll give him a chance. Right now? I wouldn’t hang out with Castiel Novak even if you paid me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to tonight. I invited him out with the rest of the gang.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “What the hell?!” He said indignantly. “You know how much I hate the guy, and you still invited him?”

“You invited Anna.” Sam quipped back defensively.

“Only ‘cause Jo wouldn’t stop pestering me to let her come.” Dean snapped. He let out a deep sigh. “Gonna have to put up with it now, though. Just remember, if it all goes wrong, this is on you.”

“Deal.” Sam said tightly. “I promise, he wants to try and make things work. If I thought he was going to be an ass, I wouldn’t have invited him.”

…………

Castiel wasn’t much good at parties. Usually, he wasn’t invited: his friends had learned from past experience that if they dragged him along, Castiel would just find some quiet corner to hide out in, deliberately avoiding anyone who might try and socialize with him. There were too many people, he found, and he couldn’t have a proper conversation over the loud music. It was one of the few cases where his ridiculously high tolerance for alcohol was a problem: everyone would be drunk long before he actually began to feel tipsy.

He wanted to try and make an effort with the folks from the garage, though, so Castiel dutifully trudged along with Anna to the Roadhouse at the appointed hour. By contrast, she was excited for the night ahead, dressed up to the nines in a sleek black dress that showed all her curves. She’s interested in someone, Castiel thought bitterly.  Probably Dean. He couldn’t say he approved. The guy was an ass, plus it was never wise to mix business with pleasure. If they started dating, it could cloud her judgement.

They were greeted by Jo, who immediately pulled Anna into a tight hug. “You made it! I thought you weren’t going to come.”

“Like I’d ditch. You promised me Jell-O shots and dancing.” Anna laughed. “Besides, someone has to stop Cas from acting like the Grinch.”

“Considering it’s September, your pop culture reference isn’t particularly befitting the season.” Castiel dead-panned.

“Yeah, but your heart could still do with growing a few sizes.” Anna teased, nudging him playfully. Castiel just rolled his eyes.

Jo glanced over at Castiel, like she had only just realized he was there. She looked surprised to see he wasn’t wearing his usual suit and tie, glancing down at his t-shirt with an appraising eye. “I didn’t peg you for a  _ Star Trek _ fan.”

“I’ve watched every season.” Castiel smiled faintly back at her. He could do this. Discussing his favourite TV show always helped calm his social anxiety. “Spock is one of my favourite characters.”

“Oh yeah?” He was rewarded by Jo grinning slightly back at him. “Dean’s obsessed with it too. He went to Comic Con dressed as Kirk last year.”

Something about that image was far too pleasing to think about. Castiel quickly crushed it.

Anna had already taken control of the situation though, grabbing Jo’s hand and starting to drag her to the bar. “C’mon. You owe me a drink.”

“Live long and prosper.” Castiel said awkwardly, doing the Vulcan salute in farewell, but they were already gone. So Anna had already ditched him and he had made a fool of himself. Great. Why had he thought this would go well again?

“So you bothered to show up, then?” He heard a familiar voice say from behind him. Winchester.

Castiel turned to find Dean and Sam sat at one of the tables, two pints of beer in front of them. He forced his face into a smile. “Dean. Sam. It’s good to see you.”

Sam shot him a wide smile. “Hey Cas! It’s great you made it. Why don’t you grab a beer and join us?”

Castiel hesitated, glancing over at Dean to see if he was going to put up a fight.

He rolled his eyes, but sighed and said, “Yeah, you can join us. I can bury the hatchet for one night, if you can.”

“Of course.” Castiel smiled back at him. “I would like that, Dean, very much.” He held out a hand and after a slight hesitation, Dean shook it.

Once he had acquired his own beer, Castiel came back over and sat down at the table. The others seemed to be having a good time: Anna and Jo were chatting happily over by the bar; Bobby was sipping on his whiskey while he shot the breeze with Ellen, the bar owner; Garth had found his way to the karaoke machine and was currently serenading the bar with a surprisingly tuneful rendition of “Ring of Fire”.

There was an awkward silence before Dean ventured, “So, um, Sam told me you’re into LARP-ing.”

Castiel frowned, glancing over at him. This was usually the point where athletic jock types like Dean would start picking on him. Castiel had better things to do with his time than defend his right to spend his weekends role-playing an elven cleric.

As though he had guessed the reason for Cas’s stony silence, Sam chipped in, “Dean LARPs too.”

“Oh?” Castiel couldn’t help but show his surprise. “I didn’t realize. What’s your character like?”

That was enough, it seemed, to thaw the usual frostiness that dominated their conversations. Dean could be quite charming, when he wanted to be. Something about the way his eyes lit up with boyish excitement as they argued over the relative merits of chainmail and leather armour made Castiel’s heart leap in his chest. Sam disappeared off for several minutes and they barely even noticed his absence.

It was too good to last, though. Ellen came over after a while, bearing another round of beers.

Dean looked confused, “We didn’t order these.”

“Drinks are on the house, boys.” Ellen nodded in the direction of the bar. There was a dark-haired man there, sipping on some fancy cocktail with an umbrella stuck in it. When he saw them watching him, he ducked his head in embarrassment, but managed to summon up just enough courage to give Dean a bashful wave.

Dean shot his most charming smile back at the man, raising his beer glass as if in a toast.

Sam laughed, “Man, Aaron’s still got the hots for you. How long ago was it that you guys went out? A month ago?”

“Eh, he’s a good guy. We might’ve had a thing, if it wasn’t for…” Dean tailed off.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about your secret admirer.” Sam laughed with a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up, asshole.” Dean shoved him playfully. That was when he noticed Castiel. Castiel was still watching the man at the bar, his expression almost one of distaste.

Dean’s good mood quickly evaporated. “You got a problem, Novak?”

Castiel startled on hearing Dean’s words, quickly focusing on his drink instead of the bar. “There’s no problem here. So you were telling me about your last campaign. Why don’t you-”

“Cut the crap, Cas.” Dean snapped, cutting him off. “You’ve had a problem with me being bi right from the start, haven’t you? Bobby told me all about your bible-bashing family.”

“I’ve never had a problem with your sexuality.” Castiel bristled. He stood up, preparing to storm out. “Besides, my religion has nothing to do with it. My church has always preached that God loves everyone, whatever their sexuality.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Dean retorted. He stood too, the two of them right up in each other’s personal space, glaring at each other. Everyone was watching them, eyes wide as they waited to see the fallout. “‘Cause every time I act into a guy around you, you start being an ass.”

Castiel looked down at the floor. Dean had him beat there.

He knew it too, grinning in triumph. “C’mon, then. Tell me just what you think of me. About time you came out and said it.”

“It’s a sin.” Castiel’s voice was barely a whisper. He took no pleasure in this. “There’s no harm in being gay. It’s when you act on it that’s the problem.”

“Oh yeah? Well you can take your God and shove him up your ass.” Dean snarled. He grabbed the lapels of Castiel’s jacket, forcing him to look at him. “You hear me? Stay the hell away from me. I’m done with people like you telling me what I should be.” Then he was gone, marching out of the bar and slamming the Roadhouse door behind him.

Everyone was just staring and Castiel couldn’t help but crumble under their gaze.

Anna was the first to make a move. “We should go now.” She muttered. From the tone of her voice, Cas knew that he had fucked up in her eyes, but she was choosing not to address it for now. He nodded, making to follow her to the door.

Sam stopped him. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” He asked quietly. He didn’t seem angry, just hurt.

“It’s what the Bible says. Of course I do.” Castiel said, though it sounded like a weak argument even to his own ears.

“If you actually believed it, then you would sound like you meant it.” Sam retorted. He didn’t stop them leaving, but just watched them depart with sad eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel had been restless all night, barely able to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about it all: Dean’s face, full of anger and hurt; Sam’s bitter disappointment; Anna dismissing him with the perfunctory statement “I’m going to bed”, when he tried to talk about it. After a few restless hours tossing and turning, he admitted defeat, creeping quietly out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. It couldn’t do any harm to work out his tension, after all. He stepped into the shower, turning it up to near-boiling point. The hot water against his skin helped to ground him, washing away the cares of the day.

The worst part is, Cas knew that Sam was right. He didn’t fully believe what he had said, that being gay was a sin. A God of love couldn’t despise people for loving someone, could he? But that was what he heard every week, preached from the pulpit of his local church. What he heard every time some matter relating to LGBT rights came up on the news. Every time he wasn’t sufficiently falling into line, Naomi would give him one of her concerned looks. She would gently prod him with questions, pushing until she extracted a promise that he would be careful not to get mixed up with “people like that”. Castiel grew to dread those times. He struggled to live with himself, afterwards. It felt like selling out, somehow. No, it was easier for him to just push those doubts away, keep them secret while he kept up appearances. It was better for everyone, that way. Naomi could feel happy that her family were the models of Christian piety. Castiel could do his best to ignore the doubts and self-hatred.

Then there was Alfie. They had grown up together. Naomi used to joke that he was almost part of the family, he spent as much time over at their house as any of the Novak kids. Him and Castiel would do everything together. Then one summer, Alfie became secretive, withdraw. Castiel pressed him for an answer, time and time again, but he would refuse to explain, just shaking his head sadly. It wasn’t until Junior year, when he got an answer. Alfie somehow managed to stammer out the truth, that he was gay. They kissed under the football bleachers, all awkward teenage fumbling.

He was never quite the same after his parents found out. They shipped him off to some quack therapist who said she could “cure” him. As if there was anything needing to be cured. Alfie became drawn and unresponsive, shutting off from the world. The Novak family were no longer allowed to go around to Alfie’s house and Naomi would purse her lips in annoyance whenever Cas would mention his name. So Castiel watched from a distance with concern as Alfie grew ever thinner and more drawn. He blamed himself, when they found the body hanging in Alfie’s basement. Castiel wasn’t sure that was a mistake he could ever forgive himself for.

He had started dating Daphne not long after that, wanting to escape Alfie’s ghost and finally giving in to his mother’s increasing hints about bringing some nice girl home to meet the family. Sweet, kind Daphne, the model good Christian girl. Naomi had been thrilled. Castiel was almost convinced she had started writing out the wedding invitations. When he broke it off, she was more heartbroken than Daphne seemed to be.

It was to Daphne that his mind turned now. Castiel’s hand edged down lower, starting to lightly caress his cock. They had never got this far, keeping well within the bounds of Christian modesty by merely exchanging chaste kisses, but that didn’t stop Castiel wondering with a kind of scientific curiosity, what it would feel like if they had. He imagined her taking his length in her mouth, her pretty green eyes gazing lovingly up at him. Letting out a blissful moan, he started up a rhythm of steady strokes. He was caught up in the fantasy now, seeing her clearly in his mind’s eye, sucking down on his cock with her sandy hair obscuring her face. Castiel sped up the speed of his strokes, desperate for relief. He was close now. He could feel it. Just a few more and…

Wait. Since when had Daphne had blonde hair?

Dean gazed up at him, eyes full of devotion. He pulled away slightly to murmur, his voice low with arousal, “C’mon, Cas. Gonna make you feel so good.”

That was enough. Castiel came in a spurt, reaching out for the wall to steady himself as he rode out the orgasm, his sex-addled brain trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

_ Oh shit. _

…………

If Castiel thought his first few days at the garage were bad, they were nothing compared to what followed. Dean would barely talk to him in anything more than grunts or one word syllables. The garage staff avoided him completely, shooting him dark looks and whispering in hushed voices whenever he walked past. Sam at least would tolerate his presence, but would do his best impersonation of a kicked puppy, barely hiding the hurt he obviously felt.

What was worse, though, is how Castiel had started to notice Dean. His smile. The freckles that dotted his skin like constellations. The way he would gently coax life back into formerly dilapidated vehicles. Just how good the tight-fitting garage overalls made him look. It was torture.

Finally, Castiel resorted to his usual refuge in times of trouble: he texted Impala67. He had been holding off doing it. It felt too fresh and fragile a realization to put to paper. But somehow, he got up the courage.

_ Emmanuel: Do you ever wonder if God hates you? _

_ Impala67: I don’t believe in the guy myself, but no, I don’t. What’s up? _

_ Emmanuel: All my life, I was taught that he would hate aspects of who I am, that if I wanted to be saved, I would have to strip those away. Now, I feel doubt. I don’t know what to do. _

_ Impala67: Okay, first off, that’s a bunch of crap. I don’t know much about religion. My kid brother’s the one who’s into that kinda thing, not me. But anyone who thinks you’re a bad person and that you’re going to Hell? They’re the idiots. Doesn’t make it any less sucky, though: I’ve had enough people tell me the same thing. _

Castiel couldn’t help but smile when he read the message. It was good to know he had someone looking out for him. Maybe that was what made him bold enough to text.

_ Emmanuel: I think I’m gay. _

As soon as he sent it, he regretted it. The statement felt too new, too vulnerable. It was a while before he received a reply, the whole while Cas’s heart thudding in his chest.

_ Impala67: Dude. Me too. _

_ Emmanuel: Really? _

_ Impala67: Well, I’m bi. But yeah. _

_ Emmanuel:  I’m not sure yet how I would label myself. I’ve had relationships with women, in the past, but I’ve never had that intensity of connection. _

_ Impala67: You’ve got time. No one has it figured out straight away. Either way, you get stuck with the same crap, which sucks. Had it at work the other day, some guy thinking he could tell me I was gonna burn in Hell for liking dick. I told him where to stuff it. _

_ Emmanuel: I thought that way for a while. At least, I said I did. I’m not sure whether I ever truly believed it. It was easier for me, to pretend. Then I didn’t have to worry about what my family would say. _

_ Impala67: Oh. That’s why you only just realized, right? _

_ Emmanuel: Exactly. The worst part is, my mother used to be more tolerant. She was never exactly a supporter, I think, but she wasn’t so rabid in her hatred. When it got bad, I knew that if I came out, she would ship me off to conversion therapy. _

_ Impala67: Jesus. _

Castiel paused before texting back. Even now, so many years afterwards, it was hard to think about.

_ Emmanuel: My father… He was like me. Eventually, the charade got too much, I think. He loved my mother, but he didn’t want to hide that part of himself anymore. She couldn’t accept it, so he left. I believe he’s very happy. Not that I’m allowed to see him. The only way I know what he’s doing is by following his blog: he’s a writer, you see. He ended up marrying his editor, I believe. _

It was a long while before Impala67’s response came through.

_ Impala67: My dad kicked me out of the house for a while, when he found out. I wasn’t gonna tell him. He found me with a guy, and you can guess the rest. I had a hell of a job explaining the bruises. _

_ Emmanuel: I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. _

_ Impala67: No need. Point is, people are crappy. You gonna make your own decisions, or let them rule your life for you? The way I see it, you’ve got to do what you think is right. _

Castiel couldn’t help but feel emboldened by his friend’s words. He still felt confused, too many emotions and feelings fighting for dominance, but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel alone.

Impulsively, he texted back. _ Emmanuel: I wish I could meet you. _

_ Impala67: I wish we could too. You’re a cool guy, would be great to hang out sometime. If you’re ever passing through Lawrence, Kansas, you’d better give me a call. _

Castiel’s heart caught in his mouth.

_ Emmanuel: …I’m in Lawrence. _

The response was almost instantaneous.

 

_ Impala67: Wait. What? _

_ Emmanuel: I live in Topeka usually, but I’m staying in Lawrence for business. _

_ Impala67: Dude. You’re telling me you’ve been in my hometown and I didn’t freaking know about it?! We’ve got to meet up. _

Faced with the reality of actually getting to meet the man he had been messaging for over a year, Castiel was starting to panic. What if he didn’t live up to expectations? What if they hated each other, when they finally met? With faltering fingers, he reached for his phone.

_ Emmanuel: Are you sure? _

_ Impala67: Dude, ‘course I’m sure. You’re one of my best friends. I want to hang out with you. ‘Sides, not like there’s much else to do in Lawrence. _

That was enough to smooth away some of Castiel’s misgivings.

_ Emmanuel: I suppose you’re right. Are you free tomorrow night? _

_ Impala67: Hell yeah, I am. Why don’t we meet at the Roadhouse? I go there all the time and I can score us some free beers off of Ellen. _

_ Emmanuel: Oh. The last time I went to the Roadhouse didn’t work out so great. The people who hate me at work go there a lot. _

There was a high chance that Dean would be there, after all. Castiel didn’t know how he felt about that.

_ Impala67: Look, I’m gonna be with you. What’s the worst that can happen? If Douchebag from your work’s there, he’ll have to get through me first. _

_ Emmanuel: I suppose you’re right. I’ll see you at 8pm? _

_ Impala67: Sure thing. I’ll be at the bar. Look out for a copy of Slaughterhouse Five, so you know it’s me. It’s my favourite book. _

_ Emmanuel: I’m looking forward to it :)  _


	4. Chapter 4

Dean just couldn’t sit still. He was a bundle of nerves, his mind already on his date tonight instead of on the car he’s meant to be fixing up. More than once, Bobby had to tell him to get his head out of the clouds and focus on work. It’s no good, though. He just couldn’t concentrate. Dean couldn’t stop playing over and over in his head what he expected to happen tonight, what he expected Emmanuel to be like. He had to admit, the realization that the guy batted for the same team as him was a big one. Dean had been not so successfully trying to avoid developing a crush on him since they first started talking a year ago. Not that he would do anything about it yet. The guy was still figuring out his sexuality, for Christ’s sake. Dean wasn’t going to get in the way of that by declaring his feelings.

Mostly he tried to distract himself by guessing what Emmanuel might look like. He had kind of got an image of someone that was a cross between Doctor Sexy and Han Solo in his head. Dark messy hair, piercing blue eyes, that way of staring at you like he’s looking into your damn soul- Dean brought himself up short. He snatched his hand away from the engine he was working on, and shoved the image out of his head  _ No. Not him. He’s a jerk. _

Speak of the devil, Castiel seemed unusually on edge today too. He had all but locked himself in the spare room he had commandeered as an office for himself and snapped at Bobby more than once, something he would never usually do (even if Dean was grateful for the reminder that yes, you’re supposed to hate the guy). When he asked Anna about it, she grinned.

“Castiel’s got a date tonight. He won’t tell me who, so I’m guessing it’s a big deal.”

“Him too?!” Dean’s first thought was  _ He’d better not be going to the same place as me _ , closely followed by the more treacherous  _ Don’t want to see him with anyone else _ .

“Oh, yeah, you’re going on a date tonight too, right?” Anna smirked, and Dean knew he had just opened himself up to more mockery. “Thinking of making it a double-date?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Like he’d want to go anywhere near me. Probably too afraid of catching the gay.”

That didn’t stop Dean from wondering, though, just who had agreed to go on a date with the dreaded Castiel Novak.

……………..

Castiel had already chickened out at least three times before he finally showed up at the Roadhouse. He kept changing his mind, starting to head home before realising just how guilty he would feel about standing up his friend. That didn’t make it any less intimidating, though. Castiel might say that he knew Impala67 as well as any of his real life friends, but it was hard to get a full picture of what someone was like from just talking online.

He wasn’t so worried about Impala67. He figured he was a good enough judge of character to be sure his feelings wouldn’t alter there. But what if he wasn’t good enough for Impala67? What if he took one look at Castiel and decided that he didn’t like him? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Stop stressing, Castiel.” He muttered under his breath to try and calm himself as he stepped out of his car, heading towards the bar. “Everything is going to be fine.”

He was mostly right.

As expected, he spotted the copy of  _ Slaughterhouse Five _ laid out casually on the bar, next to a sandy-haired guy wearing a leather jacket. It was hard to tell from the back of him, but he looked around Castiel’s age. He seemed to be chatting animatedly to Ellen, running a hand nervously through his hair every so often, as though he was trying to steady himself.

This was it, then.

Castiel tried to push the nausea down. He forced a smile on his face and started to walk over.

Then the guy turned around.

Dean. It was Dean, all along.

Castiel stopped, staring with wide eyes, struggling to process it all. In a way, it did make sense. Dean had told him all about the garage, his curmudgeonly boss who was like a father to him, his kid brother who he was incredibly proud of. Castiel had seen hints of his kindness, his sense of humour, everything that he loved about Impala67. Another realisation hit Castiel with a start. He was the jerk that has been making Dean’s life a misery at work. The one who has been threatening to take away one of the closest things Dean has to a home. The homophobic asshole. Maybe they might have stood a chance before. But after what he had done, there was no way Dean would want to speak to him now.

Before the incoming panic can properly grip Castiel, though, Dean started speaking again. He had obviously had a bit to drink, probably to calm his nerves, and was talking louder than usual. Loud enough that Castiel can hear him clearly from his vantage point.

“‘Course, Castiel’s out on a date tonight. Just hoping he doesn’t show up here. Way to ruin my evening.”

“Castiel?” Ellen looked intrigued, leaning in closer, desperate to hear all the latest gossip. “The the boy Sam brought here the other night, who was being a jerk to you?”

“Yep. Still amazed he got some girl to say yes to a date with him. Guy’s an asshole. Spending a few hours in his company would be torture. Hell, I avoid him as much as I can at work.”

Castiel had heard all he needed to. He fled.

……………..

At first, Dean didn’t let it worry him. Shit happens. Maybe Emmanuel was delayed somehow? It would be just like his bosses to keep him late at work, on tonight of all nights. From the few snippets the guy had told him, the dude he was working with sounded like a judgemental ass.

_ Impala67: You get caught in traffic or something? I’m over by the bar. Don’t let Jo put you off, she’s got to have her gossip :P _

He had put away more pints than he could remember and had begun to feel shaky on his feet. Ellen had cut him off when she had noticed with a pitying smile.

_ Impala67: Nearly closing time. You might wanna hurry up, if you’re coming. _

She let him stay until closing, insisting on swiping his car keys and giving him a lift home. It was a sign of how upset he was that Dean couldn’t bring himself to care.

_ Impala67: Thanks a lot. Could’ve let me know, if you weren’t gonna show after all. _

……………..

He was close to a panic attack. Castiel didn’t get them often, but when he did, they were bad. He felt his chest constricting, and the city streets seemed too wide and expansive, the usually familiar route suddenly something more sinister and terrifying. He had just managed to keep it together by the time he reached the motel room him and Anna were sharing. She would know what to do, he was sure. Anna had always been more of the pragmatist. He thought nothing of turning the key in the lock and striding in, not considering that he was back several hours earlier than expected. So he was due for his second surprise of the evening.

Anna wasn’t alone. Her and Jo Harvelle were snuggled up on her bed, making out passionately. Castiel froze in the door. He had no idea what to do.

Finally, he managed to stammer out, “You two are dating.” _Way to state the obvious, Cas._  


“Cas!” Anna startled, jerking away from Jo as if she had been electrocuted. “Look, I can explain, I promise.”

“There’s nothing to explain.” Suddenly, Castiel was seeing everything in a new light. The way Anna and Jo were always together, giggling over some private joke. How she had disappeared the last few evenings, like she was sneaking off to meet someone.

“I should go.” Jo got up, smoothing her clothes down and grabbing her things. Shooting Anna a sympathetic smile, she pressed a tender kiss to her cheek before heading out. Castiel did not get such a friendly goodbye.

Jo glared daggers at him, “If you’re an ass to her about this, you’d better expect to become best buddies with my knife collection, Novak.”

“I have no intentions of being an “ass” about any of this.” Castiel retorted, making air quotes with his fingertips. “Goodnight, Jo.”

She huffed in annoyance, but left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Words bubbled out of Anna in a flood, “Look, you can’t tell Naomi, okay? I don’t care what you think of me, but if she knows I’m a lesbian, I’ll lose my job. She’s done it before. It’s not like I’ll get a reference either, and I’ve been working there most of my life so I’ll-”

“Anna, please.” Castiel cut her off, gently resting a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her down. “I’m not going to tell my mother.”

“You’re not?” She stared up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not…” He turned his head away. “There’s something I’ve never told you. I think…I’m gay.”

That was enough to silence her. Finally, when the shock had subsided, she gently took him by the hand and led him over to one of the beds, pulling him down so they were sat next to each other. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

……………..

 

Everyone noticed Dean’s foul mood the next day at work. Face like thunder, he was hammering out one of the old cars Bobby had taken in as scrap metal and breaking it up for spare parts. He was probably doing more harm than good, taking out his own anger on the old rust-bucket. Castiel watched him with a frown, wishing that there was something he could do to make it better. Then again, he might do more harm than good. Why would Dean want to know that the man he despised was also the guy he’d been talking to online for the last few years? He would probably be just as angry.

 

There were better things he could do than watch Dean all day lon. His report on the garage which lay waiting on his desk, for starters. After his  talk with Sam, Castiel had started to think carefully about the buying out of the garage. This place couldn’t just be turned into a knock-off franchise like they usually did. It would break Dean’s heart, not to mention Castiel had become fond of the place, despite himself. He had felt more alive here than he ever had, back in Topeka with Angelus Motors. He felt like he was making a difference here. If he had a choice, he would never go back.

That was what gave him the idea. Castiel thought back to his early days at the garage, seeing Dean bent over that old Mustang. Maybe, just maybe, that was the solution. He worked like a man possessed, wanting to make sure every last detail was perfect before presenting it to Bobby and Dean.

He was so focused on his work, Castiel didn’t hear the sound of the door opening.

“Heya Cas.” He started at the sound of Sam’s voice.

He looked up, staring dumbly at him before remembering he had to say something, too. “Oh, um, hello Sam.”

“Focused on deciding our fates? Any clues about what you’ve decided to recommend?” Sam’s voice was light-hearted, but he struggled to completely disguise how worried he was.

“I’m nearly at the stage to show you, yes. I just need a little longer, work out some of the final details.” Castiel shot him a reassuring smile. “It’s not bad, I promise. I’ve thought long and hard about what you said.” He looked away, embarrassed. “Dean gave me the original idea, actually.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, obviously curious. “Now I’m definitely worried. I know how you too are.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been re-evaluating some things lately…” Castiel turned his face away.

“Is this about what I said?” Sam frowned, watching him closely. “’Cause you’ve been acting off ever since that night at the Roadhouse.”

“I’m not offended, if that’s what you were worried about. You were right to call me out.” Castiel shot him a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did, no matter how I feel about Dean. Besides, you were right. I didn’t really mean it. When you come from a family like mine… Sometimes it’s hard to stop pretending to be everything they want me to be.”

“I get that. Dean and I had the same kind of pressure from our dad. We dealt with it differently, but it sucked for both of us.” Sam looked sympathetic, “Thanks for apologising. Although I’m not really the one who needs to hear it.”

“Believe me, I want to say the same to Dean.” Castiel explained. “Although given his mood at present, it’s probably a bad idea for me to be near him. I don’t want to hurt him anymore.”

“Yeah.” Sam made a face. “He was supposed to be going out with someone last night. The guy didn’t show up, so now he’s pissed.” He glanced over at Cas, a sudden realisation hitting him. “You were meant to be going out last night too, right?”

“I guessed as much. He seems unhappy.” Castiel sighed. “Mine wasn’t...I just...I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. I understand why, I’ve done enough damage, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.”

Sam looked thoughtful. There was a long silence before he finally said, “Cas...Was it you Dean was supposed to meet last night?” Castiel froze. As though he sensed the tension in the room go up several notches, Sam kept rambling on, “Look, I know it’s kind of weird, but he was talking about how he had got to know this guy, Emmanuel, online. You told me that your LARP character’s name is Emmanuel. Plus it’d make sense, if you didn’t know who he was and then showed up to find out it was him all along.” His eyes were wide and pleading like a puppy dog begging for another few scraps from the dinner table. “I get it if you don’t like him, but my brother’s hurting. If it really was you, I want to know. Please.”

Castiel’s sigh full of misery was answer enough.

Sam leaned against the desk, all his focus on Castiel now. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“He hates me.” Castiel somehow managed to get out. “He hates me and no matter how hard I try, I can’t change that. I don’t understand what I even did wrong.” He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, all the pain and hurt of the previous night coming flooding back. Dammit, he shouldn’t be this upset about it. It wouldn’t be the first abortive date he’s been on.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Sam clapped him on the shoulder, clumsily reaching for him from across the desk. His voice was soft as though trying to soothe a wounded animal. “Dean was always going to be pissed at you. He’s protective of the garage and it sounds like you didn’t help things the first time you guys met. Then you had to ask me about college. That always gets his protective big brother streak out.”

Castiel frowned at that last part, tilting his head in confusion. “Dean told me you went to Stanford, when we were talking on the forum. That doesn’t explain his reaction. Besides, you never said you went to college. You listened to me talk at you about different scholarship options the other week, and never said a thing. How was I supposed to know?”

“Uh yeah.” Sam huffed an embarrassed laugh. “It was easier not to tell you. I kinda don’t like people knowing.” He shifted uncomfortably, eyes firmly focused at the floor. “Thing is...I dropped out of Stanford.”

“What?” But that didn’t make sense. Sam was smart, smarter than Cas at any rate and he’d managed to coast through college. “I don’t understand.”

“Most people don’t.” Sam shot him a sad smile. He let himself fall into the seat opposite Castiel, avoiding Castiel’s eyes. “I just couldn’t hack it at college. I’d spent my whole childhood pushing myself so hard, so I could get there. Worked my ass off after school, got in all the AP classes I could. I was doing great. I thought once I got to Stanford, I thought that was it. I could get a great job, the whole white picket fence thing. I was the only one pushing myself: Dean was proud whatever I did and Dad didn’t give a damn.” He smiled sadly. “‘Course, when I got to Stanford and I wasn’t always top in my classes any more, I felt like I was failing.”

“What happened?” Castiel leaned forward, hanging on Sam’s every word.

“I shut myself off in my room, mostly.” Sam shrugged. “Didn’t have many friends, I was just studying the whole time. Then my girlfriend, Ruby, she was into some stuff. Wasn’t too hard for me to get some amphetamines.” He grimaced. “Still ended up burning out though. Dean found my stash and got pissed. He paid to put me through rehab. I’ve been clean ever since.” Despite the gravity of the subject, there was a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Been working here while I figure out what the hell to do next. Can’t go back to Stanford, but this place isn’t that great for me either.”

“Sam…” Castiel didn’t know what to say.

Sam finally met his eyes. “And there it is. The look of pity.” He laughed softly, though there was no mirth in it. “That’s why I don’t like telling people. I made my choices, Cas. It makes sense I’m the one who has to pay for them. Doesn’t stop Dean from trying to look out for me, though. He’s been even more overprotective since it all went down.”

“I don’t pity you, Sam.” Castiel said, voice quiet but firm. “You made the wrong choices, but you’ve come back from it. Not everyone does. I can see why Dean’s proud of you.” Standing up, he walked around the desk and rested a hand lightly on Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s nothing.” Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Just figured you needed to understand. ‘Cause you need to talk to Dean. Whatever this is, it’s hurting you both.” He unfolded from the chair, stretching. “Even if he tells you to get lost, he has a right to know it was you all along, doesn’t he?”

Much as he hated to admit it, Castiel could see the truth in Sam’s words. “I’ll think about it, I promise. Maybe when I’ve finished this paperwork. It might give him one less reason to hate me.”

……………..

Dean was in Bobby’s office when Castiel went in to bring the final draft of his proposal. He grunted an acknowledgement in Castiel’s direction before pausing when he sees the file.

“Is that…?”

“My findings about the garage, yes. I’m going to present my findings to the board when I return back to Topeka. I did try to consider how to make this work.” He did his best not to break under Dean’s fearsome glare in his direction. “This garage is very special. I can see why you were so worried about me tearing out what makes it so important.”

Dean just scowled, “See if I can believe that.” He snatched the file away from Castiel and started to flick through it. As he read, his eyes widened.

“Son of a bitch…”

“You mind telling me what’s going on?” Bobby grumbled, looking over at Castiel.

“Of course.” Castiel smiled slightly, taking heart from Dean’s positive reaction. “The garage books aren’t as bad as I initially believed. With another revenue stream, I think you might go back to being very profitable. It was Dean that gave me the idea, actually. That Mustang he fixed up was incredible and Angelus hasn’t expanded into classic car restoration yet.”

“Can’t see the folks at Angelus going for that.” Bobby frowned.

“You’re correct there: my mother has already decided that this place should be converted into one of the standard Angelus franchise. That’s why they won’t be putting up the money to invest in the garage.” Castiel explained. “I emailed my recommendation in this morning.”

“But how the hell are we gonna fund this? Your report keeps talking about investors’ money and getting new equipment.” Dean glanced up from the report, wide-eyed.

“If you’ll accept it, I would like to invest in the garage.” Castiel paused, waiting a few moments for the revelation to sink in. “I know we haven’t got along so well, but I can promise that the garage would be your’s to do with as you wish. I would merely be putting up the money to help you reinvest in it.”

“But why?” Dean asked quietly.

“Because you were right. This place is your home and a community. I’ve been privileged to get to experience that for the last few weeks.” Castiel summoned up a small smile, heart leaping when Dean mustered up a smile in return. “If I had listened more closely, instead of focusing on what I expected from you all, perhaps I would have realised that sooner.”

“Well this is a damn sight better than I was hoping for.” Bobby reached over the desk to shake his hand, shooting him a beardy smile. “You’re not so bad, Cas.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Dean was still flipping through the proposal with growing amazement. He barely noticed Castiel come over to stand next to him until a shadow fell across the paper.

Castiel held out a hand for him to shake. “We got off to a bad start.” He murmured. “I would like it if we could part friends.”

There were a few tense seconds as Dean paused, Castiel half-convinced he wouldn’t take the hand. Then he gripped Castiel’s hand in a firm handshake, still looking uncertain as though he expected Castiel to turn around and say it was all some kind of gag.

“Friends.” He agreed. “You were kinda an ass at first, but Sam told me what you said, about that night in the Roadhouse. And thanks for this. It means a hell of a lot to me.”

“Yes, I was an ass.” Castiel conceded. “Although you weren’t much better.”

Dean laughed, surprised. “That’s what Sam said. Kept telling me I needed to talk to you more, then we might get along.”

They were standing close now, right up in each other’s personal space. Neither of them had noticed. Bobby did, though, slipping out of the office with a knowing smile. They didn’t see him go.

“We could go have a drink. Bury the hatchet.” Castiel suggests tentatively. “I hear the Roadhouse does excellent burgers. We never got to try them, that other night.”

“Damn right it does.” Dean thought for a moment before sighing, “What the hell. I guess you’re leaving tomorrow anyways. Seems about right to have a farewell drink.”

 

……………..

 

Dean didn’t know what the hell was going on. It was like the world had somehow turned upside down. The Castiel he knew was all scowls and standoffishness. Not like this, shy and bashful. He had apologised for all the crap he had said to Dean. It didn’t make any of it better, but he genuinely seemed to want to try and learn, which helped a little.

Not to mention what he had done for them. Dean thought he didn’t give a damn about the garage. Yet here he was, thinking about what Dean would want most. It had always been a dream of his to turn the garage into a classic car restoration business one day, at least as a side-line. But you needed a decent amount of cash for that at first and the garage hadn’t been doing so great for a while. Not helped by the fact that he had almost finished saving up for it all when he found Sam’s stash at college. Rehab wasn’t cheap and even though Dean would do anything for his brother, that hadn’t made giving up on those dreams any less painful. He hadn’t told a soul, not wanting to wish for something that might never happen. Yet Castiel had still somehow made it happen.

A few weeks ago, he would have done almost anything to avoid Castiel’s company and now here he was, sat next to him at the bar, ordering two beers as he tried to avoid Ellen’s curious glances in their direction. Well, that hadn’t stopped him somehow having conflicting feelings about the guy, even if he did hate Castiel’s guts. Cas was unfairly good-looking and just Dean’s type, so sue him. Besides, when he wasn’t actively trying to be a dick, he didn’t seem so bad. Kind of dorky, but Dean liked that, just like...No. He wasn’t going to think of Angel now. He had gone over every reason, every possible thing that could have happened, and he still had no answer. Why hadn’t Angel given him an explanation? He had been online a few times going by the activity status on his profile. He would have seen Dean’s messages. More than that, he didn’t seem like the kind of person who would just vanish with no explanation. The guy had apologised for not having much time to talk for Christ’s sake when they didn’t even have a set appointment. He wouldn’t just ditch on that date, Dean was sure of it. Question is, what made him leave?

No time to think of that now, though. Castiel was sat next to him, staring into his pint of beer like it held all the answers of the universe. If Dean hadn’t known better, he would have said he was nervous.

“So, um, you’re heading back to Topeka tomorrow, then?” Dean wasn’t much good at small talk.

“For a few days at least. I need to present my report to the board. I can see some of them opposing it. My brothers are sometimes frustratingly difficult to work with.” Castiel managed a small smile. “I would like to return soon, though. I’ve made some good friends here.”

“Sam? Yeah, that makes sense. Kid talks about you all the time. One of the first people he’s properly hung out with since…” Dean tailed off. Even if he was trying to be friendly, no way was he going to whine about his problems to someone he had only recently stopped hating.

“It’s alright. Sam told me about Stanford.” Castiel assured him quietly. “I can understand now, why you found my remarks about a college education offensive.”

“He blames himself too much. Could do without other people making it worse.” Dean said gruffly, though he took the apology for what it was.

“You’re a good person, Dean. I only really realised just how much, recently.” Castiel’s eyes were wide and earnest. It was uncomfortable being the focus of that much intensity.

“Yeah, well, I try.” Dean shrugged, faltering under the intensity of Castiel’s gaze. “You ain’t so bad. Not now at least.”

“There’s no need to pretend. I know you hated my guts for most of the time I was here. I wasn’t especially fond of you either.” Castiel said dryly.

Dean glanced over at him curiously. “Something’s changed, though. That’s why you’re acting nicely.”

“Certain events forced me to put things into perspective.” Castiel said, not quite meeting Dean’s eyes. “I realised I’d been seeing you all wrong. I’d allowed my own prejudices to take over.”

Dean looked confused. “I don’t get it.”

Castiel sighed, “Remember the other night? You were due to go out on a date.”

“Been trying to forget about that.” Dean muttered.

Castiel didn’t say anything, just reaching into his bag and pulling out a somewhat battered book. Slaughterhouse Five. It took a moment for Dean to get it, then his eyes widened, “You’re…”

“You recommended this to me last summer.” Castiel said softly. “I wasn’t especially fond of it at first, but now it’s one of my favourites. You always did give good recommendations.” He paused. “I should have seen it sooner. Impala67. That’s your car, isn’t it?”

Dean laughed softly, “Yeah. You said you liked LARP-ing, same as Emmanuel. I should’ve realised that you talk the same too. So basically, we’re a pair of idiots.”

Castiel nodded, “I couldn’t have been more surprised when it was you I spotted at that bar. Then I heard you talking about me.”

Dean winced. He remembered all too well some of the things he had said. “No wonder you scarpered. Didn’t feel up to meeting me in case I got mad at you.”

“That’s a fairly accurate assessment, yes.” Castiel looked away. “I couldn’t see you looking too favourably on the homophobic dick who has made your life a misery for the last few weeks, whatever friendship we might have built up online.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Sam. He thought I could fix things, if I tried. Besides, you seemed a little less antagonistic today. I wanted to try and tell you, if I could. It seemed unfair to keep it from you.” Castiel looked slightly nervous. “Dean, I’m not expecting anything. I would like it if we could still be friends, but I would understand if you didn’t want-”

“’Course we’re gonna be friends.” Dean cut him off. “I’ve said some crappy things in my time when I was trying to figure out stuff. Not saying I’ve forgiven you yet, but I’d like to figure it out together.”

“I would like that too, very much.” Castiel said. He paused, before saying, “Dean, I think you should know…When I told you before, that I had started to develop feelings for someone which made me question all my beliefs.” He blushed. “I was talking about you.”

“You…What?” Dean stared back at him.

“I think I like you. Romantically.” Castiel said awkwardly, his heart in his mouth. “I don’t know what we should do about that, or if it changes anything, but I thought you should know. If you find that uncomfortable, then I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Dean reached over, taking Castiel’s hand in his. “Like I said, we’ll figure this out. Making it up as we go along seems kinda our style.”

He was rewarded with a wide smile. Dean was struck, not for the first time, how much better Castiel looked when he was smiling. “I think I can work with that.”


End file.
